Ajar

I knew you would leave if I slept a little longer.

So I did.

Only a matter of time.

Until I fall too.

Listen.

I have traveled a long way. But I'm still where I began.

To 7 hours n a moonlit sky...

She had a seven hour journey up ahead. Not the routine ones. Not those with laptop & iPods for company. They were there too; uncared for this time.. She preferred her new found acquaintances - apprehension, excitement & love.

She sat there on the seat longing for an arm that could support more than just her weight. She stared on at the immatures up ahead working on a kiss in the moonlit sky. She looked away briefly at the window. Blushed at her own reflection. Stretched a bit and shrunk back in her seat. Coiled. Curved. Expectant & dreamy.




Even her watch felt overworked today for the number of times he had been looked at. He could help very little for 'day light savings' kept her waiting an extra hour.

The wait was probably worth it. For afterall she was heading back home.

To home
Where her heart belongs
To dad
With arms wide open
To Him
Who never was
To herself
Who always will be!


Well yes!
She did fall in love.
Again.
Too soon.




With herself for a change.

Cold Gray Mornings

They say that there is light up ahead.... May be there is too little to be seen. Or may be... Am just blind.

Yes. I woke up to yet another cold and gray morning. I am left with empty visions of a world where silent whisperers scream into thin air. I suffer from memories of a time, so long ago. I miss simplicity. I fear those eyes... scornful eyes - dripping with contempt and disdain. I long for warmth. I run and hide behind invisible walls. I faint and fall off to wake up briefly before I hit the ground. Again.. my eyes open to a cold and gray morning.

Letting Go...

Its hard enough to remember things that you miss a lot.

I just realized its harder when you miss things you don't remember anymore.

... of neon lights and lonely streets

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I know I want to write more than this title.

I know it every morning, when I wake up before the sun does. I say it to myself as I win over my alarm clock. I know it while I walk to work. I know it while I wait for my cup of cappuccino. I know it while I reply to one mail after another. I recall it while the coin trickles down the vending machine.

I see it in so many eyes. I feel it within.
This is the story... of neon lights and lonely streets.